


A Brush With Divinity

by falindis



Series: Into This Wild Abyss [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Choking, Kissing, M/M, Mairon is Very Sensitive, Melkor does not like guests, Sauron fails a stealth check, Smut, Utumno, Utumnobang, angbang, handjobs, seduced by the dark side, swearing fealty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:41:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24309148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falindis/pseuds/falindis
Summary: Mairon has heard stories of Utumno, but until now they have remained exactly that. To find harmony in the discord within him, Mairon travels to the dark fortress in secret. He soon realizes that evading Melkor’s attention is a task easier said than done.
Relationships: Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Sauron | Mairon
Series: Into This Wild Abyss [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742446
Comments: 12
Kudos: 59





	A Brush With Divinity

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to Forged in Fire, Touched by Ice, which tells the story of Melkor meeting Mairon, but also works as an individual fic. If you liked that one, I am sure you will enjoy this! I appreciate all views, comments and kudos. ♥

Mairon’s spirit glided across the fields of Arda, bleak and endless under the cold light of the stars.

Every moment Almaren disappeared further and further, until Mairon faced nothing but emptiness. He was a lone flame flying amongst the dark, a shooting star making its way across the sky.

He knew the way only from tales. Everyone in Arda whispered of the cold fortress at the edge of the world. And although those stories aspired to inspire terror and keep intruders away, Mairon felt neither fear nor revulsion. The opposite. He wanted to know more. _Needed_ to know more. The ache inside him had grown too painful for him to ignore.

He flew for a long time, passing rivers and lakes and rolling hills. Finally, the landscape changed into sharp, mountainous peaks that drowned out the starlight. Among those peaks was a single light: Utumno. The fiery fortress was crowned by ice, its black and white peaks jutting from the center of the mountains like a row of teeth. Now that Mairon was flying closer, he allowed his fire to dim, not wishing to draw any attention to himself. As he descended further, he felt the air grow ever colder, chilling him down to the core. Once he finally landed, nothing was left of his flame but the wick of a candle, fluttering and flickering in the freezing air.

His spirit had found its way on top an empty tower. All was quiet but for the whistling of the wind. Mairon listened closely, straining his senses. Once he had made sure that the way was clear, he passed through the roof still in his spirit form and started descending the tower.

His tiny flame drew long shadows on the dark stone walls. First, he thought this was all of it: simply damp, barren darkness, nothing more to see or admire. But as he made his way out of the tower the hallways grew larger and more decorative. Everything was carved of jagged, black rock, with red, fiery veins crawling in between like vessels of blood. The hallways were of polished, dark stone or grey granite, and although the halls were lacking the ornamental statues and foliage of Almaren, there was a stark beauty to this place. Mairon found himself admiring the impressive contrast, the harsh angles, the wildness and untamedness that perfectly seemed to reflect Melkor’s spirit.

That same moment Mairon became aware from the fact that he was being watched.

A dark presence loomed upon him, and the entire room seemed suddenly colder. He realized that this was due to him no longer being in spirit form. It was as if a gust of wind had blown in and snuffed out his flame. A shiver ran through Mairon’s _fana_ as the darkness drew closer, the coldness gripping around him like a fist.

“You think you could pass through my gates unnoticed”, the voice growled, followed by the rumble of slow footsteps. _Melkor._ “Fool me, sneak around my castle like a common thief…”

Mairon turned around to face the dark Vala. He was approaching from across the hall, his eyes two glowing coals in the middle of a face shrouded with darkness. Fear tightened around Mairon’s chest. “With all due respect, I’m no thief—”

“Silence.” Mairon’s words were cut short, as Melkor gripped him from the throat and hoisted him into the air. His hand was so large that his fingers easily reached to the back of Mairon’s neck. Mairon choked, desperately fighting for breath, but Melkor’s grip was iron.

“Melkor…” he struggled, nothing more than a whisper. “Let… me…”

“Go?” Melkor asked, tightening his grip even further. A cruel smirk played on his lips. “Where would the fun in that be?”

Mairon’s eyes watered. White spots danced at the edge of his vision. His lungs burned. But just as he felt like his chest was going to explode, Melkor let him go. He discarded Mairon like an unwanted toy: a broken, useless thing. Mairon hugged the cold stone and gasped for air.

“Tell me why you are here”, Melkor spoke. His voice had no hint of the warmth he had showed Mairon in Aulë’s halls, none of the softness of honey. It was as hard and unyielding as the stone below. “To observe, to spy? Manwë, dear brother, how low you have fallen…”

“No”, Mairon shook his head. “I just wanted to see it by myself, to know whether what you spoke was true…”

A harsh tug lifted Mairon from the floor and then pushed him against the wall, so hard that he felt his nose crack. A hot feeling gushed into his nostrils, blood splattering on his robes.

“Is this how little faith you have in me?” Melkor roared now, his voice a thunderclap. “That you would rather sneak around my castle than trust my word for it?”

Mairon braced himself, curled his body tighter to withstand the next blow. But it never came. Melkor simply let go.

“Perhaps I truly underestimated you, my little Maia”, Melkor continued, but no longer rolled his words like thunder: now they were simply the rustling of the wind. “For I knew you to be clever, but also cunning? Quick of wit you are, and sharp of tongue.”

“You...” Mairon struggled to understand, “you’re not angry?”

“No. The opposite, in fact. You done well, my Mairon. You have surprised me.”

 _My Mairon._ The words vibrated like a song in Mairon’s chest. He dared finally to turn around, to slowly look upon the dark Vala’s face. He had expected to see anger, but that sharp emotion was not there: all Mairon could see was a question.

“Say that again”, Mairon whispered.

 _“My Mairon.”_ It was only then that Mairon understood how close Melkor was, so close to map out all the lines in his dark grey eyes, every single strand of raven hair. His scent was that of ash and embers, his voice crackling ice and the humming of the stars.

“Melkor…”

“Hush”, Melkor said, wiping the blood off Mairon’s face. For some reason Mairon had feared his touch would hurt, burn him even, but it simply felt soft, cool. Melkor moved even closer, and Mairon dared not move, his whole body frozen. He was utterly and completely captured, irrevocably taken.

And then Melkor kissed him.

Mairon let out a helpless, surprised gasp. But that surprise soon faded into pleasure, and Mairon opened his lips even wider. The dark Vala took it as an invitation for his tongue, exploring deep inside Mairon’s mouth. Liquid fire poured down Mairon’s spine. After the initial shock, he returned the kiss.

What became as soft and smooth became quickly hungry and eager, lips and tongues clashing, hands roaming. Melkor’s granite-grey hands found their way upon Mairon’s skin, crawled underneath his robes. Mairon whined, more a cry than a sigh. Melkor’s grip was soft, yet Mairon knew Melkor could crush him as easily as glass. He could sense the Vala's _fëa_ rippling right underneath his papery skin, struggling to contain something far more powerful than this mortal body.

“You are so lovely”, Melkor murmured between kisses. “My little firesprite.”

A wave of pleasure pulled at Mairon’s heartstrings, and he found himself craving more. It had been such a long time since someone had spoken of him with such admiration. He mewled softly against Melkor’s mouth. It felt good, _too_ good being touched like this, being adored like this. Melkor seemed to sense his need, since his hands moved further onto Mairon’s bare stomach and the strings of his breeches. Mairon found himself thrusting against the Vala’s touch, and each rub of sensitive skin against the fabric felt like fire sparking between his legs. His whole body was hot. Mairon soon realized this was a result of his _fëa,_ tiny flames licking his red locks and manifesting onto his skin. The flames did not burn him, nor did Melkor seem to mind – he simply continued worshipping his body with utter dedication and admiration.

“So eager”, Melkor praised, tracing torturously slow circles above Mairon’s groin. “It is beautiful.”

Mairon had trouble breathing now. He could no longer control his body. He simply rutted helplessly against Melkor’s hand, wanting needing hungering _more._

“M-Melkor…” he gasped. “I… need…”

Mairon needn’t say more. With one, smooth motion of his hand Melkor tugged the strings on Mairon’s breeches, freeing his aching member from its prison. The cold touch of Melkor’s hand against his length was almost too much at first, and Mairon was afraid he would implode at the spot. Yet somehow he managed to control himself, biting his lips so hard he could taste blood.

Melkor began a slow, languid movement of hand. He stroked Mairon up and down, squeezing him gently yet firmly, and Mairon’s world fell away. He cared not for the obscene sounds he made, the undignified thrusting of his hips. His mind was lost in pleasure unimaginable.

“Do you understand now, Mairon?” Melkor whispered against his ear. He tightened his grip and caused a tug of pleasure that shook Mairon all through his spine. “Do you understand, what the Valar have been keeping from you?”

Mairon hissed through clenched teeth. He had never felt anything like this. He had never even imagined that something could feel so good. Why would the Valar deny him something like this? How could anything that felt so good be bad?

“I can give you all this and more”, Melkor’s hand sped up along Mairon’s length. “You simply need to swear fealty to me.”

Mairon tried to form a coherent sentence, but found he could not. He was reduced to a mindless, servile thing, begging and broken and _craving._ “Melkor… please…”

“Swear”, Melkor growled. “Repeat after me. _I am yours.”_

A pressure started to build in Mairon’s groin. “I am yours”, he uttered desperately.

_"Both fëa and fana.”_

Melkor squeezed him harder, and Mairon keened in his touch. “Both _fëa_ and _fana_.”

_“For all eternity.”_

“For all eternity.” The words were nothing more than a broken breath, a whimper.

“My precious”, Melkor purred into his ear, sharp teeth nibbling against Mairon’s neck. “Now come for me.”

With those words Mairon’s reality shattered into thousands of glittering stars, his inner flame exploding as a shower of fire. His fëa flickered, fluttered as a candle would in the wind, the shadowy tendrils of Melkor’s darkness dancing, spiraling, carrying the sparks higher. Smoke met flame in a dance so dangerous and divine.

Mairon rode out his high for a long time, slumping into Melkor’s arms when he was done. He was utterly spent. He could not move a muscle. And the longer Mairon stayed there, the more he understood that perhaps he didn’t even want to.

He could not go back now.


End file.
